The Paper Palace
by LuckyLadybug
Summary: Joe, Lew, and Peggy have their hands full when Roger Bard returns with another bizarre problem that he drops right in their laps. It isn't long before Los Angeles is crawling with spies, secret agents, a fake Scotland Yard inspector, and other strange characters out to find the source of all the trouble: some mysteriously disappearing government papers.


**Mannix**

 **The Paper Palace**

 **By Lucky_Ladybug**

 **Notes: The characters from shows are not mine. The other characters and the story are! I've been idly toying with this story for a while and finally decided to put up this first segment while it's still June 16th, Christopher Cary's birthday. Christopher brought that rascal Roger Bard to life and this is partially another adventure with him and partially a tribute to all the shows I love that are set in Los Angeles. It makes sense to think that all those characters would cross paths at some time or another and I'm very fond of such appearances throughout my stories. I will also include other favorite** _ **Mannix**_ **characters from certain episodes, such as Paul Gantry from** _ **Harlequin's Gold.**_ **There are some references to a** _ **Mannix**_ **story I did called** _ **All That Glitters is Not Gold**_ **, but that shouldn't have to be read first.**

 **Chapter One**

Joe didn't know who had placed the mysterious call that had sent him down the coast to a seaside hospital, with the promise that he would find the answer to one of his current case's mysteries there. But when he arrived and gave his name, the nurse at the station brightened.

"You're Joe Mannix! The man who identified that poor man's body said that you would be coming."

Joe raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me, but I don't really know why I'm here. Who's dead?"

"Oh, he's not dead," the nurse replied, coming around from the desk and leading him down the hall. "He was pulled out of the Pacific Ocean by a fisherman several days ago. It's amazing he's still alive; with that harsh crack he took on the head, he should have drowned." She pushed open the door to the room and Joe leaned in, not knowing at all what to expect.

Whatever it was, it wasn't the sight of Roger Bard lying lifeless in the bed, the heart monitor beeping slowly and incessantly.

"Roger," Joe whispered in disbelief.

"He's never fully regained consciousness, but he did say a few things in delirium before lapsing into this coma," the nurse said softly. "Enough for us to piece together that he was trying to save someone he cared about who was being held hostage. He counterfeited some papers the kidnappers wanted and tried to give them in exchange for the woman, but they found him out. They struck him and threw him overboard into the ocean, expecting him to die. They must have taken all of his identification before pitching him out; that's why we didn't have a name or know of anyone to call about him."

Joe advanced slowly into the room, barely believing what he was hearing. "We all thought he'd just abandoned Claudia and run for his life," he said somberly. "That's what they tried to make us believe. Oh, Claudia's his wife." He looked up at the nurse. "Does he have much of a chance?"

She paused. "I would have said No, but he managed to hang on to life and not drown, so who knows what other tricks he might have in store. He really doesn't want to die."

"He never did." Joe looked down.

"Are you alright?" the nurse asked in concern.

"Yeah," Joe said, occupied. He didn't intend to tell a stranger that he was feeling guilty for believing Roger had just left Claudia to deal with her captors. He had started to feel a lot better about Roger after he had taken responsibility for his last mess and risked his life to save an abducted Toby, but when Roger had shown up once more and seemed to be up to his old tricks, Joe had not wanted any part of it. Later, he had honestly thought Roger had run out on his wife.

Thinking of something else, he looked up again. "This man who identified him . . . who was he? He didn't tell me his name on the phone."

"Well . . ." The nurse stared into the distance. "He didn't give a name, but I'll try to describe him. . . . Late forties, maybe, or close to fifty. . . . Brownish-gray hair, blue eyes, mustache . . . oh, and he spoke with a British accent."

Joe rocked back, stunned. "The fake Dustin Rhodes," he said in disbelief.

"Excuse me?" the nurse blinked.

"He pretended to be a Scotland Yard inspector," Joe said. "I don't know why he'd do anything to help Roger, unless maybe he hoped Roger knew where the real papers were and would tell me . . . if he ever woke up."

The nurse looked baffled. "It sounds like this is a very complex plot."

"You could say that," Joe agreed. He looked sadly back to Roger. "And old Roger is right in the thick of it, as usual."

 _ **Some Time Earlier**_

The trouble had all started one afternoon at the Intertect Detection and Security Agency. Lewellyn Wickersham, busy with official business as always, still found time to wonder and worry about the whereabouts of Joseph Mannix, former employee and continuing friend. From the phone calls he was getting on this hectic autumn day, he wasn't the only concerned party.

"I'm sorry, Peggy," he said into the phone while rubbing at his aching forehead, "Joe hasn't been by and he didn't call. The last time I saw him was right after you did. He told me the same thing he told you, that he was going down the coast on a case and might not be back up for a couple of days."

"I know, Lew, but by now it's almost been a week," Peggy fretted. "I haven't been able to reach him and I'm getting worried!"

Lew glanced at the clock. "Are you _sure_ he didn't mention a specific town or port where he was going?"

"I've thought and thought, but I know he didn't," Peggy insisted.

"Alright." Lew dropped his hand to his desk. "I'll go out and take a drive down the coast. Maybe I'll run across him or someone who saw him."

"Oh, would you?" The relief in Peggy's voice was apparent. "I drove down to San Diego and was going to go farther, but I had to come back up for Toby's award banquet. I won't have the chance to try again for at least a day or more, and who knows what trouble Joe will have gotten into in the meantime!"

That brought a crooked, knowing smile. "Hopefully everything's just fine," Lew said. "But if you've already been down to San Diego without any luck, he might even be in Baja California!"

"That's what I'm afraid of," Peggy admitted. "He always seems to get in terrible trouble when he goes to Mexico."

"Joe Mannix gets into terrible trouble in his own backyard," Lew said dryly.

Peggy knew it was true and couldn't bring herself to laugh. "Be careful going out there, Lew," she said. "And please let me know the instant you know anything!"

"I will," Lew promised.

He hung up feeling overwhelmed. There was already more than enough on his plate without chasing after Joe who knew where. But he knew it wasn't at all an exaggeration to be worried about what Joe was getting into, so for his own peace of mind as well as Peggy's, he would feel better finding out where Joe was and what he was up to.

"Excuse me, Mr. Wickersham."

The familar, British-accented voice caused Lew to violently start. "How did you get in here?" he exclaimed, staring at a very sprightly and cheeky Roger Bard in his doorway. "Chris?!" he called in disbelief.

"Ah, your secretary has stepped out, I'm afraid," Roger replied. He closed the door and leaned against it, his hands around the knob. "Frankly, I wouldn't be here, Mr. Wickersham, except that I've found myself in a spot of trouble and I thought you might be able to help me."

"Why would I help you?" Lew retorted warily. He supposed he had to give Roger some credit for putting himself in life-threatening danger when his last disaster had resulted in Toby's kidnapping, but Lew had always figured that Roger would remain a con artist in spite of that incident. As far as he knew, he was right. And he had no desire to get mixed up in any more of Roger's plots.

Now Roger gave a helpless shrug to Lew's question. "Joe's my friend?" he ventured hopefully. "I haven't been able to reach him."

"No one has," Lew half-barked. "I was just going out to look for him."

"Oh. Well, good show." Roger tried to smile, but the unease in his eyes was obvious.

Lew heaved a huge sigh. "What is it you've got yourself into now?" he asked grudgingly.

Relieved, Roger hurried in and sat down facing Lew's desk. "It all started with a handful of misplaced government papers," he said.

Lew's stomach dropped. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"No," Roger said matter-of-factly. "I'm afraid you're not. Oh, but I didn't steal the papers," he hurried on. "They just sort of . . . fell into my possession, you might say."

"I _might_ say," Lew shot back. "On the other hand, I might have something very different to say, such as that no matter who stole them, they shouldn't have been in your possession unless you were trying to return them."

"I was, in a way," Roger said slowly. "For a price. A very reasonable price."

"Ohh. . . ." Lew took off his glasses and massaged his temples. "You were actually going to _sell_ the papers back to the _government?!_ "

"In exchange for them getting the enemy spies off my back," Roger said. "It's not so strange to want that now, is it?"

"If you hadn't kept the papers, the enemy spies wouldn't be hounding you at all," Lew retorted.

"Yes. Yes, that's quite true, I'm afraid." Now Roger was smiling awkwardly. "Unfortunately, it's a little late for that now."

"Why?" Lew asked warily. "Where are the papers?"

"I've lost them," Roger confessed. "Someone stole them from me."

Lew somehow resisted the urge to bang his head on the desk. "And you want me to find them for you?!"

"Well, those enemy agents are still after me," Roger said slowly. "I've tried to tell them I don't have the papers and they don't believe it. I'm afraid of what they might do to me or Claudia if this goes on much longer. If I only had the papers back, I could approach the U.S. government with my offer and they could do something about these enemy agents. Without those papers, I'm afraid they'd only laugh. They'd have no way of knowing I was telling the truth."

"Neither do I, for that matter," Lew said.

"Surely I have a little credibility, at least," Roger pleaded. "I did save young Toby's life, nearly at the cost of my own."

"You probably saved all our lives," Lew said grudgingly. "Although you were really just fixing the mess you'd got us all into in the first place."

"Yes, that's quite true," Roger admitted with an awkward smile. "But does that mean you won't help us about these papers?"

Lew rubbed at his forehead. "I certainly don't feel obligated to. Do you have any idea who took them?"

"It could have been any one of several parties who have been after them," Roger said.

Lew gave him a Look. "It's not just the enemy agents?"

"Oh, I'm afraid not, old boy." Roger started to pace the room. "There's also two very mysterious men who don't seem to be part of any organization. Then there's two other men who may be working for the government. And a woman I recognize as a _femme fatale_ from one of the . . . international organizations of evil."

Lew suddenly felt like he was falling into a bottomless pit. "These men who might be working for the government," he said slowly. "Can't you approach them and tell them the whole story?"

"I've tried that, but I don't think they believe me any more than the enemy agents do," Roger replied. "They seem to believe I have the papers and that I'm just trying to con my way into gaining their help in order to get the enemy agents off my back and still keep the papers besides."

"Ohh . . . how do you get yourself into these messes?" Lew said in utter frustration.

Roger gave an awkward shrug. "It's a talent, I suppose."

"And a very questionable one at that," Lew snapped.

"Well . . . can I count on you, then?" Roger asked hopefully.

"I'll look into it," Lew said. "That's all I can promise. I don't have time to devote hours and days to getting you out of messes you shouldn't have gotten yourself into in the first place."

"Of course," said Roger with that cheeky smile, seeming relieved just to know that _something_ would be done. "But . . . I'll need someplace to stay while all of this is going on. . . ."

"Register at a hotel under a false name," Lew retorted. "Just tell me what hotel and what name."

"Do you have any suggestions for particularly good ones?" Roger asked. "Hotels, that is. I'm no stranger to coming up with new names."

"The Beaumont Hotel is a good one for people who don't want to be found," Lew said wearily.

"Smashing," Roger grinned. "I'll try them straight away." He turned the knob and started to back out of the office. "You won't regret this, Mr. Wickersham, I promise you."

Chris, who had just returned to her post, stared in open-mouthed shock as Roger backed up past her. He smiled, tipped an imaginary hat to her, and headed for the elevator. Chris gaped after him before hurrying to the office and peering inside.

"I'm quite alright, Chris," Lew sighed. "Even if it seems I must have taken leave of my senses to have been entertaining a man like that."

"Mr. Wickersham, who _was_ that man?" Chris exclaimed.

"A friend of Mannix's," Lew said. "He can't find Mannix, so he came to me for help. And now I need to find Mannix." He got up from the desk. "Peggy said he drove down South, possibly into Mexico."

"You're going that far tonight?" Chris gasped in surprise.

"We'll see what happens," Lew said. "I think I'll check in with some of Joe's friends down the coast and see if any of them saw him."


End file.
